Amanda Helms

Mar 5, 2024 | uncannymagazine.com | Amanda Helms |Clockpunk Studios

The Falling God is falling, was falling, will always be falling. That is the constant. The only change is in how they do it: sometimes they allow themself to plunge headfirst, envisioning what it’d be like if they ever reached the ground and their head cracked open, spilling divine golden blood across the—What? Gravel? Pavement? What it’d be like if shards of their blessed bones scattered across asphalt, concrete, stone. If falling would at last end.

Feb 25, 2024 | mdpi.com | Amanda Helms |Jennifer S. Brodbelt

All articles published by MDPI are made immediately available worldwide under an open access license. No specialpermission is required to reuse all or part of the article published by MDPI, including figures and tables. Forarticles published under an open access Creative Common CC BY license, any part of the article may be reused withoutpermission provided that the original article is clearly cited. For more information, please refer tohttps://www.mdpi.com/openaccess.

May 17, 2023 | nature.com | Amanda Helms

The deathbed of your beloved grandmother isn’t really the place where you should decide who inherits her brain, but that’s what we did. Octavia held Nana’s hand while glaring at Evangeline and Silas. Nana lay in her hospice bed, eyelids twitching in REM sleep. Decades ago, her hair had gone so white it approached translucence, and the soft curls at her crown gave her an angelic mien. “Evangeline will get the implant,” Octavia said. She had an annoying habit of spouting dictums to us.

Apr 27, 2023 | lightspeedmagazine.com | Wendy Wagner |Amanda Helms

The house wakes from its somnolence as the witch trudges up the path made of tarts. Through its rock-candy windows, the house scans her figure for any signs of hurt. The witch’s errands in the city make her nervous. And the house, being made of her magic and therefore of the witch, worries along with her that the wrong person might recognize her, or simply think they do. “They say Creoles all look alike,” she’s said, bitter.